Chapter 12: The Frontier Town
When Qin Yue stepped out of the cave, he was utterly bewildered. No wonder he had seen only blue skies, white clouds, and sunlight earlier—he now found himself atop a towering mountain peak. Looking down, vast stretches of primeval forest were shrouded by clouds. This place was sheltered from the wind, yet the temperature was low, and when he glanced toward the summit, he could even see snow.
“Where on earth have I been brought?” he muttered in confusion, returning to the cave to find the opened pack of icefield mouse hide. Its contents had clearly been rifled through. He emptied the pack: a massive beastskin map, a sharp bronze dagger, Li Ye’s “video projector,” and the waist token of a disciple from the Zhaoyang Sect were all intact. But the silver notes were gone—only the twenty or thirty taels of loose silver his master had given him at departure remained.
What a greedy woman, she actually stole my money! Wait, where are my two books?
One was “Falling Leaf Sword Technique,” the cultivation manual for an outer disciple of Zhaoyang Sect, and the other was an unnamed little yellow...
He searched around and found the sword manual, casually discarded to one side, but the wicked dual cultivation manual had been torn to shreds—so thoroughly fragmented it would be impossible to piece back together.
The corner of Qin Yue’s mouth twitched. This encounter was truly bizarre—who would have expected to meet such a terrifying woman in a deserted wilderness? Luckily, she hadn’t killed him. As for whether anything had happened, whether he had really been violated by that female demon, he honestly didn’t know; he had no memory at all.
Reflecting calmly, he realized that his blow had been fierce but likely not the primary cause of her grave injuries—at most it had worsened them. In that situation, anyone would have acted. In the silent, stormy wilds, someone suddenly lunged at him; who wouldn’t be afraid?
Qin Yue pondered, deciding that the most urgent task was to ascertain his location. He remembered that the woman was also badly wounded, so she shouldn’t have gone far.
He examined the map for a long time before finally identifying a mountain that matched his surroundings.
Demon Suppressing Ridge!
About a hundred and twenty li from where he’d been abducted—not terribly far, but not exactly close either. To be so badly injured yet able to carry a living man weighing over a hundred jin for such a distance was astonishing.
Having confirmed his location, Qin Yue felt reassured. He checked his bearings and planned to descend the mountain from the opposite side of Demon Suppressing Ridge.
As he packed his things, he unexpectedly discovered a stone tablet beneath the icefield mouse hide, inscribed with a line of blackened writing, as if someone had used a stick dipped in fresh blood:
Apply the juice of Linhuang grass to your skin to alter its color.
A drawing of Linhuang grass followed, the script elegant, the illustration skillful.
Qin Yue was momentarily stunned and glanced at his own unusually fair, never-tanning skin. The demoness was rather decent... She recognized his identity as someone from the Ice Abyss, yet instead of “exorcising demons and evil,” she provided a solution?
This left him perplexed, but he quietly memorized the appearance of Linhuang grass, tucked the stone tablet into his pocket, and left the cave.
Just as he reached the mountainside, the distant sky suddenly changed—dark clouds rolled in like ink. Within them, it seemed as though terrifying creatures were summoning wind and rain, enveloping a radius of a hundred li in the blink of an eye.
Qin Yue was speechless. Would it never end?
Even without much experience in the martial world, he knew something was afoot—likely connected to the woman who’d stolen his silver.
He decisively cast his escape technique, merging into the mountain, shutting off all senses, and hiding quietly.
Let the immortals wage their battles; just don’t drag in a weakling like me.
Qin Yue hid underground for over half an hour, then cautiously sensed outside—things seemed calm.
Only then did he emerge, his heart pounding, wasting no time as he unfolded his Netherworld Escape technique and darted into the dense forest.
This place was countless times more dangerous than the Ice Abyss; he just wanted to get away as quickly and as far as possible.
...
Half a month later.
Jin Kingdom, a small town on the northern frontier, inside a tavern.
Qin Yue sat alone at a window table, wearing a bamboo hat and raincoat, sipping wine.
Linhuang grass was indeed remarkable—his skin now differed from before, closely resembling what it had been prior to crossing over. The key was that once applied, it looked natural; unless scrubbed hard, neither rain nor river water would wash it off.
The tavern was lively, most patrons gathered in groups of three or five, though a few, like Qin Yue, were solitary. Outside, rain still fell, and every time someone opened the door, a chill, damp wind swept in.
At the neighboring table, a sturdy man in his early thirties with bronze skin and a blade at his waist, his back to Qin Yue, grumbled, “This damned weather—it’s been raining for nearly twenty days. When will it clear up?”
Across from him sat an elderly man, over fifty, in a fitted outfit, with sharp triangular eyes.
The old man replied calmly, “Recently, something major happened in the Beast Valley, disturbing many great beasts. The persistent rain here is said to be caused by a flood dragon.”
“The big beasts don’t stay in Beast Valley where they belong—dare to cause trouble here? Aren’t they afraid of being exterminated?” said a young man at a nearby table, not the sturdy fellow.
The old man smiled, “Ordinary beasts are easy to kill; great beasts are not so easily slaughtered. Brother, best mind your words in places like this—who knows, there might be a shape-shifting beast right here in our tavern.”
The young man shrank back, visibly intimidated, and fell silent.
From their conversation, Qin Yue surmised their identities—they were likely the “hunters” his master had mentioned.
Unlike ordinary hunters, these were wandering cultivators in the martial world. They gathered herbs, hunted beasts, worked as assassins or bounty hunters... whatever paid, they would take.
At another table, a middle-aged man suddenly spoke, “Friends of the martial world, are you all here for the same matter?”
His words stilled the previously lively tavern. The sharp-eyed elder smiled amiably, “We’re all hunters—not necessarily here for any one thing.”
The middle-aged man looked at the elder, surprised, and stood up respectfully with his wine cup, approaching, “You look familiar—could you be Deputy Leader Chang Jun of the Silver Eagle Gang?”
The elder laughed, not rising, but lifting his cup in acknowledgment, “Indeed, that’s me.”
His manner was neither arrogant nor overly polite, yet the middle-aged man grew even more deferential, drained his cup, and said, “I hadn’t expected this matter would draw even Senior Chang. Do you have any inside information? What task is that lady planning to post? Such a stir, such a generous reward...”
Someone else chimed in, “Yes, Senior Chang is renowned in the martial world—surely he knows all about it.”
“Leader Chang, enlighten us!”
Reputation was everything in the martial world. Since he’d been recognized, Chang Jun didn’t stand on ceremony.
He looked around and said, “I truly don’t know the specifics, but I’ve heard rumors—it seems connected to the recent major event in Beast Valley!”
Someone asked, “What event?”
“We’ve only heard something extraordinary happened over there, but the details are unclear.”
“Please enlighten us, Leader Chang.”
Chang Jun pondered. “Word is that someone stole a magical artifact from a beast king in Beast Valley. Who it was, which beast king—no one knows. Perhaps the lady’s reward is related to this…”
He smiled again, “Just my own speculation—don’t take it as truth.”
The crowd was surprised. Someone asked, “Doesn’t Beast Valley avoid contact with humans? Are there secret dealings?”
Someone cautioned, “Watch your words—‘dealings’ sounds suspicious. Beware that lady’s men overhearing and causing trouble!”
“When one’s status is high enough, mutual acquaintance and exchange are normal.”
“Let’s stop and listen to Senior Chang.”
Chang Jun kept his mild smile and waved, “I truly know no more. Anyway, tomorrow afternoon, everyone will learn the truth at the manor—no need to press me further.”
The crowd laughed and flattered him, many coming over to toast Chang Jun, then returning to their own drinks.
Their conversation reminded Qin Yue of his encounter with the black-robed demoness. He wondered whether the Beast Valley incident was connected to her. And who was this “lady” they spoke of? Issuing a lavish reward, summoning these hunters—what did she want them to do? Should he go and see for himself?
Qin Yue considered that his current strength was not enough to stand out; he’d best avoid getting involved in such murky matters.
With these thoughts, he quietly rose and walked out.
He wished to avoid trouble, seeking only to distance himself from the hunters and find a place to settle and cultivate.
The region was a barren desert; as far as the eye could see, yellow sand stretched endlessly, appearing exceptionally desolate beneath the steady rain.
Raindrops pattered against his hat and cloak as Qin Yue walked with measured steps.
He had barely left town, less than three li away, when the sound of urgent hoofbeats came from behind.
Three swift horses galloped toward him.
When only a dozen yards remained, one rider drew his bow, sending an arrow through the rain toward Qin Yue’s back—merciless and ruthless.
No enmity, no acquaintance—striking to kill without a word.
Qin Yue used his escape technique, vanishing in an instant. Yet as he slipped underground, he heard a sharp crack, as if someone had intercepted the arrow.
Moving swiftly below, he extended his senses, locking onto the horse of the archer.
He suddenly burst from the earth, bronze dagger slicing the horse’s belly. The steed cried out in pain, lunging forward.
The rider, startled by Qin Yue’s disappearance and by the meddler who had intercepted his arrow, had his attention elsewhere. The horse’s sudden leap threw him off.
Yet he was formidable; in a flash, he summoned his spiritual power and soared into the air.
But Qin Yue was faster. Emerging from the ground, he leaped skyward, now doubting his master’s claim he was only a minor expert—this strike was with all his strength.
As someone shouted, “Keep him alive—”
A sickening sound!
The bronze dagger, infused with the Falling Leaf Sword technique, sent a blade of energy that sliced the man in two at the waist.
“Stop—”
A clear woman’s voice fell to the ground at the same time.